


Secrets of the new outsider

by LittleMissMoriarty



Category: X-Men
Genre: Centaur AU, Mpreg Eventually, Multi, altered timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 23:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissMoriarty/pseuds/LittleMissMoriarty
Summary: When Charles Xavier, leader of the Westchester herd, comes across a stranger with anger in his blood and a brand on his skin, common sense would say to not let him enter the clearing. But Charles was never one for that.





	Secrets of the new outsider

Early winter always brought troubles to the herd. The ground was hard and the grass sparse, prey spent the long months hibernating in their burrows and dens, and the air had a permanent cold snap to it, which caused problems for newly born foals’ underdeveloped lungs. Furs and hides only did so much to keep the frost away. The mortality rate for infants was high during these times, but luckily for the Westchester herd, many of the children were out of the woods. There were only a few Charles was worried about, but they were strong and were proving to be hardy in the face of winter. So far. As herd leader, he /had/ to worry about the health of his people, down to the smallest member. It was hard. There was no denying that. 

The herd was almost exclusively waifs and strays bundled together in a mismatch family of sorts, and apart from the odd brother and sister, no one was related by blood. One thing they all had in common was the title of ‘outcast’. In one way or another, everyone within the clan had been abandoned by their previous group, whether it be because of their beliefs, physical mutations or mental ones. For example, Hank, the herd’s healer, was thrown out due to the unnatural colouring of his coat, not to mention his lack of talent within hunting and wincingly high IQ. He came from a proud herd. If you couldn’t use a bow or sickle, you weren’t worth being part of the family. But Charles had been more than happy to take in a centaur who could splint a broken leg and have them walking by the end of the year. It had saved a great many of his clan and for that, Hank had more than earned his place in Charles Xavier’s herd for gifted and talented centaurs. Of course, it wasn’t broadcasted as that, imagine the reputation that would’ve been built. 

They were different in many ways. Roles weren’t fixed to certain genders like the traditional system, nor was the belief that males were above females enforced. Charles’s family knew no gender, in the way of how the group worked. Of course there were certain things females could do that males couldn’t, like produce children, and males could go for less time without eating, but it didn’t affect day to day activities. It was perfect.

In the recent months of that year, however, there had been news across the river of a centaur, named Shaw, a German-born man who had plans to eradicate the humans who coincided with the centaurs. He’d been steadily growing a herd of his own, or some would rather call it an army. Charles hadn’t become involved. It was better to lay low and keep his people safe than stir trouble for them. Besides, there had been no solid confirmation of such a stallion existing, it may have been nothing more than a rumour stirred up by the other side to create a frenzy in the herds here. It happened from time to time. People were waiting for the next crisis to fixate on. Charles wasn’t one of them but it was better to assume it was the truth than be caught out. 

Charles’s intuition proved to be right. It was mid afternoon on the 21st of December and Charles, returning from teaching a few of the older children about forest creatures on the outskirts of the trees that surrounded their pasture, was walking back whilst talking to the adolescent ginger coated filly by his side. Jeanine was troubled frequently by night terrors. It was something Charles had been trying to soothe but in the last few months it seemed to have worsened rather than softened on the poor girl’s mind. Of course, he wasn’t talking to her about it at that moment. Those conversations were reserved for when they were alone, just the two of them. Charles was so focused on explaining the reason for a bug’s iridescence that he didn’t see Raven cantering hurriedly up to him with an alarmed look on her face until she was right in front of him. Only then did he twig, and look up, puzzled.

“Charles..!” Her chest heaved as if she’d been running, or in a panic, both of which in relation to her face, were possible.

It concerned Charles. Raven was his sister as far as he cared, seeing her flustered like this was not normal and not a welcome sight at all.

“What, what is it Raven?”

“There’s been a spotting of a group of centaurs crossing across the river. We’re pretty sure it’s Shaw.”

“Shaw...? What makes you so certain?”

“They had a human in tow, with a collar around its neck.”

This wasn’t good. Shaw was coming over this side of the river? The Westchester herd had good relations with some humans, not many, but a few. If he had crossed over that meant he was trying to find new targets, and that wasn’t limited to humans alone. No, any herds found to be in trade with them were considered the same. Charles’ lips pursed. His tail flicked apprehensively as he thought. As leader, he had to take initiative. If they could just observe, and see where Shaw was leading his people, they could decide whether it would be wise to intervene or not.

“Get your bow. And get Hank.” He ordered, “We’re going to track them.”

Hank may not be the best Hunter, but he could track, and in a fight, his hooves were one of the best weapons around.

“Track them?” Raven repeated, clearly not agreeing with Charles’s logic, “Charles, you do realise who these guys are, right? They’ve killed more people than the number of years I’ve been alive.”

“I know, I know Raven, but we need to be able to see if they’re coming our way, and maybe gently lead them somewhere where they won’t be able to hurt us or the Gha’li tribe. We need to see what we’re dealing with.”

She just stared at him, had he grown a second head? After a few seconds though, she sighed irritably and looked away.

“I hate it when you’re right. /Fine/. I’ll get my bow and Hank. I’ll meet you by the great Walnut.”

The great walnut was the large tree that grew near the centre of the large clearing. According to Charles’s grandfather, who had found this area, it had been growing there for a millennia, which was why it was so large and twisted. The roots were twice the thickness of any centaur’s leg and coiled out of the ground like the tentacles of the kraken. Another fable told to Charles. 

After getting a few things in check, and slinging his bow across his chest, Charles headed over to the tree to find Hank and Raven waiting anxiously by the trunk. There was no time to be wasted. Hank didn’t question Charles’s judgement, unlike Raven. Together, they left the clearing to travel through the forest towards the wide plains rolling away from the river. 

The forest was hard to navigate for an outsider. It was easy to become lost in the foliage but the three had lived there long enough to build an internal map. They crossed it swiftly.

It took 30 minutes at a brisk canter to reach the fields. From where they were, up on the crest of one of the quiet distant hills, they were safe in case any conflict broke out. Raven had her bow anyway. Like Charles. True to her word, at the bottom was a line of centaurs both male and female making their way across with a battered and bruised human limping behind at the end. At the start were two people. A gray-coated woman, Arabian build, with a wave of blonde hair tumbling down her back and a man, bay Holstenier body, and short hair. Shaw. It must’ve been. He was leading the string. Charles motioned for Raven and Hank to lay down before joining them. So far they hadn’t been noticed, and hopefully it would stay that way for the trio. 

“Do you see what I mean? Do you think that’s Shaw?” Raven whispered, a hiss over to Charles, who nodded slowly.

“Yes. I very much think that’s the Human-killer. I don’t, however, know who the mare next to him is. Keep low.”

“Well I’m not gonna go down and kick off am I?”

Charles gave her a look.

“Raven it’s not the time to be sarcastic.”

“They can’t hear us. I’m allowed to be sarcastic whenever I want.”

“Not when I’m trying to focus on this..!”

“What if I’m trying to focus on my sarcasm?”

“Raven please...”

“Don’t pull the leader tone on me...!”

“Guys...” Hank started, as he noticed a foreign figure in the background appear, galloping furiously towards Shaw.

“For goodness sake Raven, please, just let me concentrate..!”

“Guys...”

“It was only a small comment Charles it wasn’t going to kill you.”

“You’re making me begin to wish it had...”

“Wow. Thank you for that. Who’s being difficult no-“

“Guys!” Hank exclaimed, finally getting the attention of the two.

He motioned hard with his head towards the scene. Charles and Raven simultaneously turned their heads back to Shaw’s line, and Charles’s eyebrows deepened whilst his eyes widened as he saw the stallion who had suddenly appeared pull his bow tight. His aim? 

Shaw.

“There’s someone else.” He breathes out loud, and though it was a perfect opportunity to be sarcastic, Raven didn’t comment on it, “What’s he doing..? Does he have a death wish?”

Charles saw how this was going to end. He saw the grisly outcome of the man’s attempt to attack Shaw, and it wasn’t good. Charles wasn’t known for making spontaneous decisions, it was one of his best features as the herd’s leader, but on this occasion, at that second in time, it was like all his 26 years of intuition was flung unceremoniously out of a window for this single stupid soul. He didn’t consider why the stallion had decided to be so reckless. He didn’t need to; he saw the look on his face and it told him more than enough about why he was doing what he was doing. Shaw had hurt him. They had a history. Those eyes were full of fire and anger. But Charles wasn’t going to let him throw away his life for blind revenge. There was something about him. So, before Raven or Hank could pull him back, Charles sprung to his hooves and began to race down the slope of the hill as if his life depended on it. From his place on the hill he could hear the roar of ‘Shaw!’ rip out of the intruder’s throat.

But he was too late. As he was thundering towards the line, desperate to try and stop the conflict before it began (how he was going to do that he hadn’t worked out), the man had already reached Shaw, and with that bellow he had let out, his presence was very much known. He let loose an arrow, of which Shaw barely dodged, and reared up on his hind legs, front hooves clawing at the air. Shaw’s posse had gone to attack the threat, but with an unnervingly calm hand from him, they withheld, agitated, as they were forbidden from intervening. Why had he stopped them? Charles skidded to a halt on the side of the hill, watching with confusion.

“Little Erik Lehnsherr.” Shaw spoke, a grin in his voice, as if they were old friends. 

‘Erik’, as the man was evidently called, landed back on his front legs with an angry thud, chest heaving with heavy breaths as he glared down Shaw. The friendliness seemed to only be on one side. His eyes flicked, for a split second, to the movement he saw on the hill, Charles, before returning to Shaw. 

“Why are you acting so hostile to an old friend?”

“You are /not/ a friend.” Erik growled, a German accent hardening his words, “You are a /monster/.”

Shaw appeared hurt. He splayed a hand over his chest and moved his body slightly as if he had been hit.

“Erik Erik Erik... without me, you wouldn’t be the stallion you are today! I /helped/ you, /improved/ you, showed you how to harness your gifts.” 

“You showed me all that is wrong in this world.”

Shaw didn’t answer, but a smile was still on his face. He seemed to be analysing him, reading him like a book. It made Charles shiver. After a few moments of silence, he began to slowly walk around Erik, eyes looking all over him, studying and noting down information. Erik’s tail twitched furiously. 

“You’ve certainly grown into a fine man. I’m proud. Out of all my cases, you’ve been the most successful. But, it’s a shame,” He sighed, “that you’ve become so... ignorant, to the aid I’ve given you. We could’ve changed the world, Lehnsherr. You and I.”

“What makes you think that I won’t kill you?” Erik ground out, clutching his bow with white knuckles. 

Aside from the fact that he was outnumbered 6 to 1? Charles slowly took his own bow in his hand, in case the situation intensified. The tension was so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife. 

“Erik, come on.” Shaw said, his warm tone contradicting the atmosphere, “Be smart. I have affection for you but if you try to kill me I won’t have any other choice but to let my herd defend me. You understand... don’t you?”

Erik gave a single, stiff nod. His nostrils flared and Charles could see exactly what he was going to do, which was why he began to slowly make his way down the hill again.

“I understand /perfectly/.” He hissed, face scrunching up in anger as he reared up again, hooves coming down on Shaw’s side and scraping the skin off of the bare flesh. 

Almost immediately, Shaw’s group leapt into action, apart from the gray filly. She stayed where she stood. They crowded around Erik as Shaw retreated to the outskirts, his torso twisted around as he tried to locate the wound opened up on his side. Charles sped up. He wasn’t going to let this happen. Erik was an outcast like them. He could see the man rising up from the sea of angry centaurs, on his hind legs, fury burning in his eyes. He could /feel/ it. Charles had the ability to read thoughts and emotions as if they were words on skin. And Erik’s skin /blazed/. 

The rival centaurs clawed and stamped and cut at Erik, Charles saw their hooves digging into his flesh and slicing it to ribbons, still he didn’t go down. But he wasn’t going to win. Eventually he’d give in. 

An arrow whistled past Charles’s ear and he snapped his head over his shoulder to see Raven reloading her bow. She seemed to understand what needed to be done. It landed in the flank of one of the black-coated females, who let out a shriek of pain and detached from the fighting. One down. Charles could just make out the mix of confusion and rage on Erik’s face. He could also see the strips of blood running down his coat, and the cuts on his face from the odd knife that had managed to reach him. Another arrow, this time it landed in a shoulder, sticking out like a target for Raven to aim at. Charles was growing more and more frantic. 

Shaw spotted Charles closing in. Although he was quite a short centaur, the sight of him charging towards them seemed to set something off within the Holsteiner. Maybe it was the fact that Erik had more support than he’d thought. Whatever it was, he let out a shout to retreat, and began to gallop away, a hand pressed against the rip in his skin. The others departed from around Erik and hastily followed, including the wounded mare and the gray woman. Charles gave a sigh in relief. He’d been about to call out to Erik to ask if he was okay, when lo and behold, the man began to chase after them, rather than let them go. His teeth were gnashed. 

“No!” Charles shouted, in a vain attempt to stop him as he ran to try and catch him.

But Erik ignored Charles. To him, he was no more than a stranger who had decided to get involved in something that was none of his business. Why the fuck would he /not/ follow? His injuries sizzled, like a fire. It didn’t stop him. This was the first chance he had had to kill Shaw, and almost certainly his last. The brand on his equine hip burned with the memories of Shaw, and what he did. Hooves thundering across the ground, he furiously fought to catch up with them so much so that foam lined his mouth. 

But then a hand caught his tail, and then hooked onto his human stomach, pulling him back from the momentum he was building up. Erik gnashed his teeth again. He leaned across and tried to hit Charles, the stallion clinging to him, with his fists to get him off before it was too late. In that moment he could’ve killed him.

“Get off of me!”

“I won’t let you do this Erik! I won’t let you kill yourself!”

How the fuck did he know his name?? Erik yanked his arm to try and free himself of Charles, but it didn’t work.

“It’s not your choice!”

“Let him go! I know what this means to you but if you do this there’s no going back!”

Shaw’s herd was getting further and further away, closer to a hairline crack that lead into a hook where Erik would lose sight of them. His chance was dying. It wasn’t long, a few more seconds before Erik had gained too much distance between them, and they turned the corner. He slowed down abruptly, hooves pattering to a stop and chest heaving. His eyes remained staring hopelessly at where Shaw had been, he didn’t pay attention to Charles hesitantly walking up to his side. Or at least, he didn’t initially. The stomach drop of losing his chance boiled into intense hatred for the stallion who had just made him miss out on getting closure, and when that anger overflowed, it was channeled in the form of a sharp back kick in Charles’s direction. It skimmed just the top of his equine spine, and only because he’d moved away just before Erik lashed out. Charles went white in shock. And fear. But regardless of that, he held his hands out in a placating manner to try and calm Erik down, to make him see reason. He rose onto his back legs but kept darting out of Erik’s way.

“I’m going to kill you!” Erik roared, stamping furiously, rearing up at him.

“Erik- Erik - please! Calm your mind! Calm down!” 

The other two began to hastily make their way down to Charles to help him before he got cut up to pieces by the raging stallion currently hellbent on destroying him. A trail of dust followed their hooves.

“Calm down? /Calm down/?? Who the fuck are you to tell me to /calm down/?!”

“I’m Charles Xavier, I can help you, Erik, you’re hurt, you need to see a healer.”

“I’ve never needed a healer. I need to kill /Shaw/.”

“Killing him won’t solve anything. Please. I’m begging you. Come back with us and we will help you.”

Erik was still pissed off. But now rather than attacking Charles, he was trying to get away, to maybe track Shaw and catch up in a few hours. Charles wasn’t letting him though. Every direction he threw himself in, the little fucker was still there. And now, the other two had joined him, trapping Erik in a ring. He bolted in every direction he could but there was no way of shaking them off, he bucked and reared and kicked with his legs, to no avail. The injuries meant he was drained of strength much quicker than usual. It wasn’t long before he was on his last legs, huffing and struggling to breathe. It was at this point that Charles decided to slowly approach his private space, reaching out gently with a hand. Erik bared his teeth.

“Erik... you’re injured. You don’t have to stay with us but at the very least, let us tend to your wounds. You’ll be free to go within a couple of days. My herd is for those that don’t fit in anywhere, for those that are hurt or different. Please. Come with us. I’m just like you.”

Erik felt like a trapped animal. That was a feeling he was all too familiar with. His eyes darted from each stranger, hands bunched and chest heavily rising and falling. Blood streaked his skin and stained his dark coat. The wounds pulsed. 

“Why help me?”

Charles blinked.

“Why not?”


End file.
